The Magic Detective
James Caraway strode swiftly down the dark alley. Though there was no moon out, Caraway carried neither torch nor lantern. Yet for all that, he moved with seemingly as little hesitation or difficulty as though it were high noon, weaving easily through the detritus that filled the cramped alley. He glanced casually back towards the alley entrance now, as he had done twice already. From the expression on his face, one would think he was as unconcerned as a sparrow in spring, but the hand hidden beneath his overcoat was clenched tightly about the wand in his hand and that seemingly casual glance was as piercing as a hawk's - even through the midnight darkness. Yet for all that, Caraway missed the dark shadow hovering just beyond the edge of his vision, an insubstantial shape invisible in the gloom even to his trained eyes. And his eyes were indeed well-trained, for James P. Caraway was an auror - what we might think of as a sort of magic detective. He was responsible for investigating all sorts of mysterious and paranormal activities that the ordinary British police force was not equipped to deal with. That, naturally, led Caraway into all manner of exciting and dangerous situations. Sometimes Caraway was assigned to investigate rogue wizards involved in important thefts or murders. Occasionally these magic users worked alone, but more often than not they were in the employ of foreign governments or subversive groups. Secret orders, such as the ancient Egyptian Death Cult and the Illuminati were also perennial problems. In addition dealing with all these groups and there plots, Caraway was also assigned to deal with more singular paranormal events. Investigating hauntings was one common assignment, although usually such tales of ghosts turned out to be nothing. More productive was the hunting of more flesh and blood magical creatures such as dragons, vampires and werewolves - although dragons were rare enough in such modern times that he had only been responsible for hunting one. That had been a particularly difficult assignment. Thankfully, Jim Caraway was good at what he did - very good. But unbeknownst to him, what was to unfold over the next few months would put all his considerable skill to the test and require every ounce of strength he had. Carraway reached the end of the alley and stopped before a blank stone wall. To ordinary eyes, the wall was plain stone, dirty with soot. But by his second sight, Caraway could see the magic flowing from the stone and the runes written upon it. He uttered a soft incantation and the stone of the wall instantly metamorphosed into a liquid form that still somehow stayed in place rather than spilling onto the pavement. Jim Caraway took one last glance back towards the mouth of the alley and then stepped through. The virtually invisible shadow - more a vague presence that a form - watched his departure for a brief second and then swept up into the air to report to its master. Meanwhile, Jim Caraway continued down a long stone hallway, dimly lit at brief intervals by oil lamps. At the end of the hall, a double door of fine polished oak stood in stark contrast to the sooty wall entrance outside. Caraway spoke another incantation and the door swept slowly open on silent hinges. Inside, was a large, high-ceilinged room with a fireplace at one end. A long table stood in the center of the room, around which several important looking gentlemen already sat. "I beg pardon for keeping you waiting, gentlemen", Caraway said in a soft voice that nevertheless conveyed complete authority, "I was delayed by urgent business." "We heard", a black-haired, sallow faced man at the end of the table said dryly, "But of course the business we discuss here is also important - perhaps more so than you know." Caraway inclined his head slightly, his eyes never wavering from the sallow faced man's. "You know, of course", the sallow faced man continued, that Napoleon's forces have taken nearly the whole of the continent continent and an invasion across the channel seems imminent." Caraway nodded politely - but with just a hint of curtness. "You know also that the giant clans in the Alps have been getting, shall we say, a little restless." Caraway nodded again. "I fail to see what all this has to do with me, though", he said, "I can hardly be expected to take on Napoleon's army by myself and even a giant clan may be a bit of a stretch." "Ah, but Jim" the sallow faced man said, "You've got it all wrong. You aren't going to fight a giant clan, you are going to encourage them to help us." Jim Caraway laughed, "You evidently do not know many giants, Sir Cunningham. They do not take very kindly to strangers. I think most of them would as soon see me roasting on a skewer as would listen to me." "Even so" said Mr. Cunningham, "They are our best chance for distracting Napoleon and giving us the time we need to prepare defenses." We are certain that Napoleon will send his own emissary to them, persuading them to join with him in exchange for their freedom from interference. We must encourage them to come in on our side instead." Caraway laughed again. "And how exactly do you propose to do that? Napoleon can promise much more than we can. And there's been no love lost between the English and giants ever since the Slaughter at Twin Pass. Or have you forgotten?" "I have not forgotten.", said Mr. Cunningham, "Now here is my plan."